by Jonathan Berger
Wait… hold it. Yeah, stop the clock at 1:21 and you’ll find a still in Dorit’s lyric video where the words in the center of the screen read “one ticket to paradise” but the image is of a beach with some semitic island beauty, seemingly twirling, careless to the world, flying free, enraptured by some spirit of life or love or laughter or something greater than all of them. The still captures a ticket to paradise, sure, which seems to capture the spirit of spritely magic that ensorcels in “Satellite.”
The picturesque model is the song’s author, Dorit, who continues to be viewed in every panel presented throughout the 210 seconds of the video, as the lyrics play out before us. Most of the shots exploit the artist’s allure to full effect, but also express her joy and openness, thus committing thematically to the explosive territory of the song.
That territory? The glory of isolation in our crowded world, not familiar material for the author. “It was a strange writing session I think,” says Dorit. “Wasn’t my typical writing from rage or extreme feelings.”
Though the song dates back several years, it’s perfectly appropriate for our current quarantined era. “It’s also about enjoying being alone and able to hear thoughts and truth.”
There are other picturesque moments throughout the video, but the constant presentation of flakes of light add to the context as you listen, as you watch.
The video, produced by Saad Dennis, nears its end with another poignant complexion: 3:13 reminds us that “all is quiet in the world tonight,” just as the song had begun, but now, a gorgeous cowgirl Dorit beholds what appears to be a setting sun, and is prepared for what is to come, after the revelations of the glorious bombasticity of the “15 million sparks of fire burning space.”
It’s all wonderful. Dorit’s voice is known throughout downtown New York for its strength and elasticity, and it does wonders with this original, but the full-band arrangement and Joseph Shim’s fantastic production presents the artist as she’s always been meant to be heard.
Jonathan Berger used to write for Boog City. Apparently, he still does.